Zelazny, Roger - Novel 07 by Bridge of Ashes Read Free Book Online

them the man who had been out to speak with the chauffeurs. They did not
even look up and down the street. I shifted my weapon, pulled the stock back up
to my shoulder, curled my finger about the trigger.
                   Four men passed out through the doors, talking
among themselves. I had no trouble with identification, at this distance. My
first shot, a clean and easy one, dropped Wheeler. I twitched the barrel to the
side and hit McCormack twice, as I was not sure where my first one took him.
Then I lowered myself, wiped the weapon quickly but carefully as planned,
leaned it against the wall, turned, crouching, and began my retreat along the
rooftops. I heard shots at my back, but nothing came close.
                   Now, if only my chauffeur was in the proper
place, I could begin the car-switching routine that would get me out and away
While I do not much care what becomes of me, I make the effort to prolong the
waiting, Mother Earth, that I might serve you as you deserve. I—
                   Summer.
                   Vicki dropped her trowel at the mental
equivalent of a shriek.
                   Lydia —? she began, but by then she was aware of
the cause.
                   She left the greenhouse, ran through the
courtyard, entered the house.
                   Partway across the living room, she felt Lydia 's thoughts, soothing, surprisingly
controlled: It is all right. You have not been hurt. You must not get excited.
                   Then, the voice she had never heard before:
"My shoulder—I think it's broken! I have to get down!"
                   She rushed forward, pushed past Lydia .
                   Dennis had gotten off the bed. He was standing
at its side, leaning against it. He clutched his right shoulder with his left
hand and cast his eyes wildly about the room.
                   "There!" he cried, and then he
stumbled forward and fell.
                   She hurried to him.
                   " Victoria ! Get out of here!" Lydia called.
                   She raised him in her arms.
                   "He's hurt," Vicki replied.
                   "He is not hurt. Children fall all the
time. I will have to ask you to leave."
                   "But he's never gotten out before—or
talked. I have to—"
                   "Leave! I mean it! Give him to me and get
out! I know what I am doing!"
                   Vicki kissed him and surrendered the shaking
boy.
                   ".. . And stay out of his mind, too. That
is very important. I cannot be responsible if you intervene at crucial
times."
                   "All right. I'm going. Come tell me about
it as soon as you can."
                   She rose and departed.
                   As she crossed the living room, Dennis began
to shout again. She looked at all the chairs, then realized she did not want to
sit down. She moved to the kitchen and set some water to boil.
                   Later—she did not know how much later—she
found herself seated at the breakfast bar, staring into a cup of tea. When Lydia came in and took a cup, she waited for the
other to speak.
                   Lydia shook her head and sat down beside her.
                   "I do not know," she said,
"exactly what happened. It was more than a hallucination. He had hold of a
genuine personality structure—an adult one. Since he lacks one of his own to
override it, it occupied him completely. I was able to stimulate his sleep
centers and he is now resting. When he awakens, this may have vanished
entirely."
                   "Do you think I should call Dr.
Winchell?"
                   "No, this is in no way out of line with
the diagnosis. It is simply more spectacular than the early effects.